7: He Only Cares If You Can Bleed
by Madame Cyanure
Summary: Sometimes the simplest solution is not always the best one. Sometimes a feared room provides an outlet for the monster within. And sometimes the monster learns secrets. OC/Jack First in the '7' Agencyverse Series. Warnings inside. x


**Hello again! This is the start of something special; an Agencyverse known as '7', following the lives of the seven agents that survived the Time Agency. I'll still be working on my other fics, but one of these will crop up from time to time. I'm co-writing the universe with Tacroy so also expect the occassional story from them. I hope you enjoy this one and, as always, review please! :D x**

**DISCLAIMER: The concept belongs to Madame Cyanure and Tacroy. The wider Whoniverse belongs to Moffat/RTD at the moment. x**

**WARNING: Excessive use of foul language and non-explicit violence. Let me know if you think the rating needs changing.**

**DEDICATION: To Tacroy; you finally get to see Keanu on the page/screen. I hope you like him! :) x**

He Only Cares If You Can Bleed

Steel capped riding boots chinked purposefully as a lone figure strutted down the glass-and-gilt North Agency Corridor. His smoke-blackened skinny jeans – a souvenir from Pompeii – rustled as he walked, then stopped; gazing at the view below and making it apparent to anyone who dared watch him exactly what he thought of it. Kali. The name was fitting; every inch of the planet below was dedicated to the Time Agency's war machine, from the Prison Mountains of Hel to the green haze of the poison smoke pits of the Western Hemisphere. From the darkest side of Cihuateteo Moon, the Headquarters of the Time Agency watched and oversaw it all.

He smirked with pride as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the reinforced glass. Raven-black hair swept across his boyish visage with casual and practised ease, the barest hint of colour reflected from sharp green eyes; the tips that he had picked up from the Goths of Xion Seven a few centuries back had really paid off, even if they most certainly were not needed to begin with and the leader had wound up dead for even insinuating that they were. Keanu Moore was one sexy fucker, period. Whores should start paying him for sex, but then again he could have anyone he wanted, so the entire Universe was his whore anyway. He'd met demigods who had nothing on his stunning physique, and then fucked them just to make point.

Bitterly, he turned his gaze back to Kali. Right now, the Agency shithole was the only place across five galaxies that had eradicated the line between acceptable and illegality enough to allow Keanu to do his thing. His 'thing' had been like this for so long; he did his job, no questions asked, then report to his superior for a longer list. Keanu was sick of it. He despised his rank. Mere Agents were excluded from the intricacies of the Time Agency and were expected to walk, casual and blind, into the field with a less-than-realistic explanation whilst the Supreme Commander – whose very existence was questionable – never left his quarters and drew up plans for their deaths should they fail. The lies pissed Keanu off to no end – he _loathed_ being Squadron Leader Keanu Moore, the assumed name under the inferior rank. Yet another of his requests for further advancement had been vehemently denied moments ago, before the screeches of the Lieutenant-General D'Ath to carry out his duties instead of wasting her time had angered him further. Ironically, whilst Keanu was stuck at the shittier end of the Agency's paranoia, some people only had to bat their eyelids and someone else would be shot in order to accelerate that person by three ranks. Fucking Golden Boy!

One day, Keanu would break the Agency; let it bleed out all of its dirty little secrets until he could lap up every last one of them. Not only would he own Kali and Cihuateteo, but he would also spread his 'thing' far and wide, just for the hell of it. It would be incomprehensible fun to do it but, until then, he still had his clients. Most of the time it was clean disposal, or setting up a new historical timeline to the Time Agency's advantage (the best being catastrophic chain reactions), although occasionally an internal problem cropped up. Sometimes an agent could scare the Generals shitless if they knew too much, in which case Keanu preferred to juice them slowly before taking the official action. Whoever he had got today had done just that, with Keanu's orders coming direct from the Supreme Commander himself. Keanu was pissed off, so drawing things out had always been on the cards, and he got the feeling that this one was more than special. Perfect.

He zipped up his custom-made leather jacket so that his weapons and instruments hugged protectively at his chest, the bulk covering his stained white t-shirt, and resumed his journey towards the end of the corridor. He would be working in his favourite room today, The Vault, which was situated in front of him and displayed a stark contrast to the Time Agency's greater gloss and grandeur. The usual thoughts were thundering through his head; he was on a role before he had even started. The Agent inside wouldn't even know what had hit them if Keanu didn't get a grip on himself; he wanted them to know it, and then scream it. He placed his palm to the identification screen and the door slid open to unveil the darkened room.

Keanu walked inside, pulling out a pair of aviator shades as the solar lights flared on with sickening intensity. As usual a client was strapped tightly to Keanu's chair in the middle of the room. It was an ordinary situation for Keanu, but as his eyes adjusted to the light levels, he froze and attempted a rare double take.

The person, lightly drugged and disorientated, raised his head weakly. Keanu saw the face and laughed. This was far too perfect.

'Welcome to my chair, Golden Boy.' He sneered, admiring the view. 'Finally, he's fallen from grace!'

**_TWTWTW_**

In combined glee and rage, Keanu promptly connected his fist with his subject's face; marking that oh-so-pretty complexion with a broken nose and a split lip. Unsurprisingly, the surge of adrenaline seemed far more enjoyable than usual.

'Wake the fuck up, you son of a bitch! I want you conscious through most of this!'

The subject groaned as his eyes fluttered open, gazing at Keanu with confusion.

'K-Keanu?' The cold blue eyes widened as comprehension dawned, and pathetic struggling ensued against Dalekanium metal bonds. Keanu allowed himself a smirk; the notoriety of Squadron Leader Moore and his Vault was enough to elicit this reaction from any Agent, but this guy knew more about Keanu's inner pleasures than anyone else. They had been friends, once. Before he had pretty much crapped on Keanu's face.

'It's been a while, hasn't it, Sugartits?' Keanu began circling the chair with slow and ominous steps, snatching up his clipboard as he intimidated like a wolf on the scent of his prey. 'Let's see what they call you these days.' The rustling of the paperwork bounced off the walls; every sound was magnified in this chamber, particularly screams. 'Captain Jack Harkness. Let me guess – the famous deeds of your last two names aren't enough for you? Or are you just running away from guilt again?'

'Keanu, please. You have no idea what's –' Golden Boy's voice was muffled with blood, but the arrogance seethed through, warranting a broken jaw. Keanu obliged.

'Of course I have no idea, you bastard! Like they'd tell me! I'm just the front line. But you;' Keanu purred, sidling round to face the chair's occupant. 'You finally overstepped the mark, didn't you? You got caught. Otherwise I wouldn't have the _pleasure_ of your Divineness in my company. You know something. You've been a bad boy, 'Jack', and I will know what you know. But it's playtime first.'

Keanu crouched level with his subject, leering at him as silent fear slowly crossed the now disfigured and bloodied face.

'Take a good look, Captain Harkness. This face will be the last thing you see before you die, and I will be laughing.'

He sauntered away to the main controls, barking out the word 'Nanogenes' with the click of his fingers. Then Keanu watched as the little bastard miracles undid all of his hard work within seconds, making the face all ripe and sickeningly handsome again. If he was honest with himself, which he wasn't, it was quite depressing. However, it was necessary; there were far more interesting methods of torture that just couldn't be allowed to be dulled by existing pain. This was mixing business with personal pleasure after all. Unfortunately that meant that 'Harkness' could now talk again. Bollocks.

'Listen, Keanu! I'll tell you anything! This is insane! Things are really screwed up within the top ranks – the Supreme Commander is not who you think and they are dangerous! Neither of us signed up for this. You don't want to kill me!'

'You don't know what I signed up for, twat!' Keanu snapped. 'Shut the fuck up! Paralysis.' Smoke descended as soon as the gas mask was fastened to Keanu's mouth, literally freezing Harkness in place, eyes wide open. Keanu waited for the fog to clear before continuing. 'And as for whether I want to kill you, you're an idiot for thinking otherwise. _Of course I want to kill you!_ You get the Agency's attention before I do. You persuade me to join up, like a little fun adventure. They send us into the field; we get captured. I was dying and you trot out unscathed to climb the Agency ladder. You left me for dead! Since then I got hard, and I got good at what I do. Then I got fan-fucking-tastic and finally I am better at something than you. I despise you, Harkness, and want every last square nanometre of your body to know it!'

Keanu kicked Harkness viciously in the groin, and when Golden Boy didn't flinch (because he couldn't) Keanu snatched up his gun and emptied a clip into it for good measure. The blood pooled there like Harkness had pissed himself red. Keanu sighed.

'Nanogenes.' He'd get through the Agency's whole damn supply if it made him feel better. The wounds healed even though the blood remained. It was time to turn righteous anger into fun.

Keanu returned to his workstation and flicked a couple of switches. Behind him, the chair stretched out to form a table; the kind more appropriately seen in a morgue, only with more holes and bloodstains. The glee that Keanu was feeling must have been explicit as he called out to Harkness.

'Ever-heard of the Iron Maiden? A great classical musician sextet, but an even greater device. It was around about two millennia or so ago.' Keanu afforded Harkness a knowing-look. 'But you never were much good with timelines, were you? And I'm the one they spent years calling The Walking Paradox. I doubt you thought it was important enough to notice, but that stopped after they lost too much blood. Or just enough; it depends how much of a good mood I'm in.' Keanu laughed and spat at his prisoner. 'Anyway, it was basically an iron closet with a whole lot of nails to impale you with. I love the idea so much that I made my own, with a few modifications.' An airtight glass case surrounded Golden Boy as Keanu spoke, still smiling jovially as if this conversation was normal for both of them. He could only guess how much Harkness was shitting himself right now, and this would be a joy to watch. He delicately pressed an inconspicuous button in front of him and an electrical device clamped around Harkness's head like a bizarre halo. Several thousand needles hissed as the slid into place, hovering just millimetres above the skin. Keanu casually addressed Harkness again, utilising the built-in intercom system.

'If you're wondering what's so special about Moore's Bitch compared to the Iron Maiden, you'll notice that I think my medieval predecessors missed a trick here. The mental pain wasn't deep enough; it didn't leave any invisible scars for them to poke and prod. The device around your head will only access the darkest parts of your mind and it is infallible. Mental shielding doesn't work here; every doubt, every nightmare, and every memory with ease. You will be forced into reliving them all at once. Those injections won't poison you either; I'm not giving you that mercy. The substance inside is slightly corrosive, so it will hurt too. Try to suffer as I did. On.'

The vocal command triggered the needles to fire simultaneously, latching upon every inch of flesh like excitable leeches, a few aiming for the fixed open eyes. By the time Keanu had sprinted over for a better view, Harkness was pockmarked with little beads of overflowing blood as the mind probe penetrated his skull. Keanu watched intently, his amusement fading. This was a lot less interesting than usual, which was odd because it was one of his favourites and custom made to his tastes. Except that he knew how to fix this problem.

'Paralysis. Off.'

Smoke pumped inside the glass cage, obscuring Harkness from view. Keanu didn't need to look down to know that the trigger gas had worked; he could feel the desperate thumps as he lent contentedly on the glass. The prospect of watching was too tempting, so he allowed himself a glance. That was better. Harkness thrashed helplessly in his own personal pain, his eyes darting and forced to stay open by needle scaffolding. Sweat and fear was emanating from what available pores he had left.

It was satisfying; nonetheless, Harkness had fifteen minutes left until he reached the point of death and Keanu deserved a break. Lighting a cigarette, he dragged a chair to sit opposite the container, thumbing open a copy of Playboy magazine. Fourteen and a half minutes of trying to figure out which ones hadn't come to him for a shag yet, and then he would let Harkness out. They were far from done.

**_TWTWTW_**

When the Nanogenes allow Golden Boy to regain consciousness, Keanu was already fixing up his next trick. He had to do it carefully, because this one was authentic; an antique or a tourist buy from the first Inquisition, he was never quite sure which. All he knew was that it was good and that he would definitely keep Harkness's ability to scream for this one. Keanu spared his victim a glance. Harkness was still clearly absorbed in his previous ordeal and crying silently, yet to regain enough composure and sense of where he was to speak. Keanu studied him with fascination as he made the final adjustments to the device. It was amazing how the ones with the most outward confidence cracked so easily, except that Keanu shared some of 'Jack's' memories from Boeshane. Everyone had lost a lot that day, Keanu included, and the fact that Keanu could relish in bringing that to the front of the mind with every other piece of guilt and regret from a long list was more than a bit sadistic. It was far too satisfying to break Harkness in ways that almost disturbed Keanu, but he would do it anyway. It was part of Keanu's job, and people that did their job properly tended to get noticed by the higher-ups.

'Keanu.' Harkness sobbed weakly. 'Can we just talk, please? I can make things right with you. I can tell you what you want to know.'

Finished, Keanu strode over to where Harkness was now seated; a different chair more adapted to the needs of the device.

'You are not going to make things right with me.' He said plainly. 'We will talk, and you will tell me _everything_. On my terms and when I say so. Right now, we are operating on a bit of a tight schedule. I've got another appointment in two hours. We'll talk at the end.'

Harkness nodded quietly, apparently stunned at the command and compliant even though he definitely knew what 'the end' meant. He looked at Keanu, seeming expectant. Keanu rolled his eyes; it was time to explain phase two, he guessed. He held up something made of heavy wrought iron for Golden Boy to see.

'This is the Pear of Anguish. The last one in existence. They used to use it for adulterers, traitors, and homosexuals. Basically it's a case of pick a hole, insert the Pear, and expand it very slowly. Guess where this is going? Clue: not any of the orifices on your face. Just try not to shit anywhere; this place doesn't have windows. Oh and I'm not going anywhere near your arse either, that is the machine's job, otherwise you might enjoy it. I am an irresistible fuck god after all.'

Keanu clipped the Pear into the mechanical arm and notice Harkness shudder as it entered his anus. He definitely wouldn't watch this one. Instead, to keep his reputation in tact, Keanu opened the door and allowed Harkness's screams to echo down the corridor.

**_TWTWTW_**

'Right,' Keanu slammed Harkness to the floor, still moaning out the last notes of his screaming symphony. 'There's two ways we can do this. Spill everything you know, naming names and giving me every little detail; you die by gunshot. Quick and efficient. Start spinning any bullshit; I get the Xilobyte parasites out and leave you to watch yourself rot as they tear you slowly apart.'

Harkness lifted his head slowly, looking him square in the eye with a gesture that was something like defiance and an expression nearing the emotion that Keanu knew only too well. Righteous hatred. Although, knowing Golden Boy, it was probably mingled with apologetic sympathy.

'Fine.'

'Start talking.'

'Look I'm sorry. For everything. I really didn't know –'

'I don't care. You are dying in this room whether you want to or not; start making this a personal brownnosing moment and I drop a Xilobyte.' Keanu laughed bitterly. 'All I care about is what caused the Generals to stop thinking that the sun shone out of your arse.'

'The Generals will hunt you.' Harkness spoke with a genuine reverence, fearing the ones who had accelerated him to greatness like the masses of other brainwashed Agents in the Time Agency's machinery. Keanu wanted to vomit, it was so pathetic.

'And who are they gonna get to kill me? John Hart? I trained him to have an aim shitter than a blind man, just so that I could force their hand in keeping me on. Admiral Forscythe is a pussy. D'Ath is only a danger if I threaten the Supreme Commander. Cerise is scared of her own shadow. Field Marshall Smith doesn't care. I win. Now, tell me everything'.

Keanu lent back against the concrete wall of the Vault, watching Harkness gather his emotions up from the mess on the floor. His hair was dancing across his sweat encrusted nose, yet he made no move to sweep it away. If this was a juicy as Harkness had promised, it would be as if Keanu was snatching up the fabled golden ticket from a baby.

'I got recalled from the field about a month back.' Harkness's voice was low and quietly guilty. 'I failed to stop the Allies from breaking through to Berlin in 1945 for a client. Things accelerated and the client committed suicide. The transaction didn't complete and the Supreme Commander wasn't happy.'

Keanu nodded. Whilst he himself had always completed and excelled in such transactions, he often dealt with Agents who caused the displeasure of the Generals through failure. It wasn't a happy process for the failed party, although it did gain Keanu the occasional bonus for keeping quiet.

'I expected punishment, but the Admiral persuaded the others to reconsider.' Harkness continued, 'I was relocated, rather than demoted. They forced me into a desk job as Lieutenant-General D'Ath's personal assistant. From that position,' Harkness sucked in a jagged breath. 'You learn things.'

Keanu leaned forward in anticipation. The punch line was coming. He could almost taste the power.

'I know who the Supreme Commander is, and what he looks like. I saw him.'

'What?' Keanu was gob-smacked. This was the king of bribery material if there ever was one. One small snitch from Captain Jack Harkness, and there would be one giant promotion leap for Squadron Leader Keanu Moore. 'Enough with the suspense Harkness, who is he?'

'Telling is what landed me here. The name's a trigger for the microsyringe that they planted inside me. I tried telling John everything; I black out and he gets Code 67ed to high heaven. Next thing I know I'm in a cell, and then I end up here.' Harkness smiled sadly. 'I've been told that he barely knows me right now.'

Keanu snorted derisively. 'Why should I care what happens to you or your boyfriend? If you black out, you're an easier target. There are no cameras or recordings in here unless I say so, just a one way earpiece from the outside. Nothing to incriminate me. Spit the name out and we're done here.'

'Ah, but that's not point is it? I think I know you Keanu and you are going to want the rest of this before I die.' Harkness's voice became stronger at the use of Keanu's name. Intrigued, Keanu nodded for him to continue. 'The Vortex Manipulators. Every single one of them that is online with the Time Agency's frequency forms a link between Agents, right? They also happen to be tuned into our DNA, which means they have a controlling factor in the body.'

'Where the fuck is this going Harkness?'

'If we are linked in all at the same moment, across time and space, we can self destruct. We are kamikaze soldiers whether we like it or not and the Supreme Commander plans to detonate all of us.'

'You're bullshitting!' No one controlled Keanu's life. He was the executioner and his loyalties were not to be exploited. He'd die when he damn well wanted to!

'I'm not. You know they train us to be inconspicuous; I believe me, I was. I lingered in meetings, overheard conversations, and read classified files. The Supreme Commander thinks the Agency is in deep enough crap to actually consider this. He eliminates us; he gets rid of evidence. He covers his tracks with human bombs, fragmenting linear time. And right now, they've blocked the Manipulator ability to tune out, so it can happen at any time things hit the fan. We are all gonna die.'

'Fuck!' Keanu's knuckles split as his tightly balled fist made contact with the wall, permanently marking the concrete. 'Fuck! Fucking hell!'

Keanu spun around, seething. Harkness was standing crookedly less than two metres from him, arms spread open wide. When he spoke, it was not without irony.

'And now you can kill me.' he said simply.

'Of course,' Keanu spat. 'We had a deal.' He stormed over to Harkness and whispered in the Boeshanian tongue. 'Goodbye,' spitting out Harkness's true name with venom.

Keanu snatched up his handgun from amidst his instruments, aiming it carefully at Harkness's head. The actual death would be quick, but Keanu was pissed off enough to take a few extra shots at the body later. His finger curled comfortingly around the trigger. A few deep breaths and he moved to squeeze.

His earpiece whined into action, startling Keanu into listening. The Generals were commanding an audience. D'Ath's voice barked out into Keanu's eardrums.

'_Squadron Leader Moore, STAND DOWN! Prisoner's court marshal has been re-evaluated. Action Code 67Level 100 immediately!'_

As if his day couldn't get any shittier.

'FUCK!'

Keanu fired at a shoulder and Harkness fell down whimpering.

**_TWTWTW_**

He stormed along the corridor to his quarters, infuriated, with threats of being knifed or decapitated to anyone that had the misfortune to get in his way. This definitely was not over. Keanu had done all that the Generals had asked of him, even leaving Harkness alive, but they would not control him! No Agent would have power over him for a second longer. He had played the system because it suited his purpose. Now the system had turned on him. Keanu refused to be touched by the Agent genocide.

No, Keanu Moore would infiltrate the Supreme Command, get a good look at his face and, when the time was right, garrotte and gut him until he could no longer scream for his mother. Keanu would live and the bastard Agency would get what was coming to it.

It was time to bring down the Time Agency from the inside. It would fall in flames.

**_TWTWTW_**

Jack stirred feebly as he felt his skin make contact with a cold wooden floor. His head was throbbing a tango; it felt like the biggest hypervodka hangover of his life.

'Sir, are you alright?'

Jack felt someone nudge the small of his back with a boot. There was music drifting lazily in the air, amidst excited chatter.

'Can you hear us, Mister?'

Aching all over, Jack hauled himself to a sitting position. He noticed a bloodstain on his shirt and gingerly touched it. He retracted his hand, gasping in pain.

Jack looked up, dazed by his gloomily dark surroundings. The area was packed with people huddled together in fear. Where the hell was he?

Overhead, sirens wailed and bombs fell.

_**FIN.**_

**Please review, particularly with what you think about Keanu because he will most likely crop up in later stories. Between myself and Tacroy there are more Agency stories to come under the '7' banner. I hope you like that idea. :) MC. x**


End file.
